“That’s not true!” I remembered Garret’s face that night, the intense way he’d looked at me, the remorse and determination and guilt. I’m done, he’d told me. No more killing. No more deaths. I’m not hunting your people anymore.
Wes snorted. “Leopards can’t change their spots,” he said with maddening self-assurance. “St. George will always hate and kill dragons because that’s what they do. It’s the only thing they know how to do.”
I looked to Riley, standing silently beside the desk, hoping he would back me up. To my dismay, his mouth was pressed into a grim line, his jaw set. My heart sank, even as I turned on him, frowning.
“You agree with him,” I accused, and his eyebrows rose. “You think this is a huge mistake, even though you were there. You heard what Garret said.”
“Firebrand.” Riley gave me a half weary, half angry look. “Yes, of course I agree with him,” he said evenly. “I’ve seen what St. George does, not only in the war, but to all our kind, everywhere. How many safe houses do you think I’ve lost to their cause? How many dragons are murdered by the Order every year? Not just the Vipers or Basilisks or the ones directly involved in the war.” His gaze narrowed. “I’ve seen them slaughter hatchlings, kids younger than you. I once watched a sniper take out an unarmed kid in cold blood. He was on his way to meet me, riding his bike through the park, and the shot came from nowhere. Because I couldn’t get to him in time.” Riley’s eyes flashed gold, the dragon very close to the surface, angry and defiant. “So, no, Firebrand, I’m not completely thrilled with the idea of rescuing one of the Order,” he finished in a near growl. “Any excuse for another of the bastards to die is a good one in my book. And don’t think your human is innocent just because he fought Lilith and let us go. He has dragon blood on his hands just like the rest of them.”
I cringed inside, knowing he was right. But I still raised my chin, staring him down. “I’m not leaving him to die,” I said firmly. “He saved our lives, and I won’t forget that, no matter what you say.” He crossed his arms, and I made a helpless gesture. “But you don’t have to come, Riley. I can do this alone. If you feel that strongly—”
“Firebrand, shut up,” Riley snapped. I blinked, and he gave me a look of supreme exasperation. “Of course I’m coming with you,” he growled. “I told you before, I won’t let you take on St. George alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll do my damnedest to keep us alive, but you can’t expect me to be happy about it.”
I swallowed. “I’ll make it up to you, Riley, I promise.”
Riley sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “When this is over, I fully expect you to do whatever I say, no hesitation, no questions asked. But first, let’s concentrate on getting through the next twenty-four hours. Come here.” He motioned me forward. “You’ll need to see this, if you’re planning on sneaking into the base with me. You are planning on coming, I assume? No chance of talking you out of it?”
“You know me better than that.”
“Sadly, I do.”
I eased in front of him and gazed down at the screen, suddenly very aware of his presence, his hand on my arm as he peered over my shoulder, the smell of his leather jacket. Wes grumbled under his breath, something that included the words sodding and bollocks, and Riley gave a grim chuckle.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his deep voice close to my ear, making my skin prickle. “Just like old times.”
Cobalt
Twelve years ago
1:18 a.m.
I slipped out the second-story window and dropped silently to the ground. Behind me, the office building remained dark, empty, as I leaned against the cement wall and dug my phone out of my pocket.
“It’s done,” I muttered into the speaker. “Everything is wired to explode. I just need confirmation that the building is empty before I detonate.”
“Roger that” came the voice on the other end. “Building is empty, the only thing left is the security guard outside. You are clear to proceed when ready.”
“Are you sure?” I growled, my voice hard. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Dublin. Are you absolutely certain there are no civilians inside?”
“That’s an affirmative. The building is clear. Waiting on your signal.”
“All right.” I stepped away from the wall. “Leaving the premises now. I’ll report in again when it’s done. Cobalt out.”
Lowering the phone, I gazed across the empty parking lot, thinking. It would be easy enough to slip through the fence, cross the street and vanish into the darkness without anyone knowing I was here. In fact, that was what Talon expected, what I was supposed to do. They chose me for these missions because I was damn good at my job—infiltrate a target, steal or plant whatever I was supposed to and get out again. All without being seen or leaving any evidence behind. I was probably the youngest Basilisk to infiltrate Talon’s enemies, and I was here only because the last Basilisk sent out on assignment never returned. But I kept completing missions, and the organization kept sending me on more, regardless of danger, time or my personal feelings. I didn’t know what this particular company had done to earn Talon’s wrath, and I didn’t want to know. Better not to ask questions; it was easier that way. But Talon required me to finish this assignment, and I knew what I had to do now.
Instead, I turned and headed toward the front of the building, following the wall until I found what I was looking for. A pudgy man in a blue-and-black uniform, silver flashlight dangling off his belt, sat in a chair near the front entrance. His arms were crossed, and his large chin rested on his chest as he sat there, eyes closed. I snorted.
Sleeping on the job, Mr. Rent-A-Cop? What would your employers have to say about that?
Bending down, I picked a pebble off the ground, tossed it in one hand and hurled it at the security guard. It struck his forehead and bounced off, and the human jerked up with a snort, nearly falling out of the chair. Flailing his arms, he glared around, then straightened as he spotted me, waiting in the shadows. I grinned at him and waved.
“Hey! Stop right there!”
I laughed and sprinted away as the guard scrambled after me. I jogged across the parking lot, making sure not to run too fast. Didn’t want him to give up the chase just yet. Pulling out my phone, I clicked it on and began dialing a sequence of numbers, the gasping, panting voice of the guard echoing behind me.
“You there! Freeze! I’m warning you…”
Sorry, human. I reached the chain-link fence surrounding the property and leaped for the top, hitting the post and vaulting over with one hand. My thumb hovered over the final button as I walked swiftly away, hearing the guard reach the fence and pause, not bothering to pull himself up. This is going to be a bad night for you. But at least you’ll be alive. That’s the most you can hope for when crossing paths with Talon.
I pressed the button.
A massive fireball rocked the air behind me, blowing out windows, shattering walls, sending pieces of the roof flying as the building erupted in a gout of flame. I felt the blast of energy toss my hair and clothes, and didn’t look back. Crossing the street, I slipped the phone into my pocket and melted into the darkness, leaving the structure burning behind me and one dazed rent-a-cop staring in dumbfounded amazement.
* * *
I reached my hotel room less than an hour later. Stripping out of my black work clothes, I changed quickly, then flipped on the news. The image showed the burned, demolished remains of the building I’d just left, surrounded by people and flashing lights. The words on the bottom of the television read: “Live: Mysterious explosion destroys office complex.” I sank onto the bed, watching grimly as a reporter’s voice filtered from the TV.
“…happened around 1:00 a.m. this morning,” the voice announced, as the image flipped to a bird’s-eye view of the demolished roof
top, gaping holes crumbling into darkness. “Thankfully, all the regular employees were gone, but we are getting reports that the janitorial staff was in the building when it exploded. Rescue teams are on the scene now…”
No. I clenched a fist on my leg, horror and rage flooding my body. Leaping upright, I snatched my phone from the bed, dialed a number and stood there, shaking, until someone picked up.
“Well done, agent,” the voice on the other end greeted. “We saw the reports. Talon will be—”
“What the hell happened?” I snarled, interrupting him. “The building was supposed to be empty! They swore to me it was clear. No one was supposed to be inside.”
A pause. “Talon weighed the information and decided that the assignment would go forward as planned,” the voice said in a stiff, flat tone. “The loss of civilian life is…regrettable, but necessary.”
“Like hell it was! They told me the building was clear.”
“It is not your place to question the organization, agent.” Now the voice sounded angry. “Nor is it your job to know the details. Your job is to obey. You’ve performed as Talon wished, and the mission was a success. This conversation is over.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, seething. Sinking onto the bed again, I stared at the television, watching humans and rescue dogs paw through the smoldering ruins, listening as a reporter interviewed the guard I’d saved. He credited himself with chasing the alleged bomber through the building and across the parking lot and made the pursuit sound much closer than it actually had been. But he did describe me as a young white male with dark hair, dressed all in black, and the police were on the lookout for anyone matching that description. They wouldn’t find me, of course. I didn’t exist in their systems; as far as the humans could tell, I was a ghost. By the time the authorities even got close to this hotel, I’d be on the other side of the country. Back to the war they couldn’t see.
Back to Talon.
I ground my teeth, tempted to hurl the phone at the wall, or maybe the television so that I wouldn’t have to see the aftermath of what I’d caused. Dammit. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it was the first time Talon had outright lied to me. Before, there had been suspicious happenstance, crossed communications, orders that could’ve been misinterpreted or reasoned away. Not this time. Talon had assured me that building was clear; I would have never pressed that button if it wasn’t.
And they knew it, too.
Sickened, I switched off the TV and flopped back on the bed, dragging my hands down my face. What now? How could I go on like this, knowing Talon would lie, that they would use me and more innocent people would get caught in the cross fire?
I could hear my trainer’s thin, high voice echoing in my head, mocking me. There is no such thing as an “innocent casualty,” agent, it said. This is a war, and people will die. That is the ugly truth of it. A few human deaths should not concern you.
But they did. A lot. Maybe I was the exception; maybe no other dragon in Talon cared if a few janitors were killed because they had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I did. And now more people were dead because of me.
My phone vibrated beside me on the quilt. Sitting up, I grabbed it as the screen came to life, showing a new message.
Stop moping, it read, indicating no one but my trainer, the Chief Basilisk himself. Brusque and to the point as always, but somehow finding ways to insult me. A car will be at your location in five minutes. You have a new assignment.
Another mission? So soon? Dammit, I had just barely completed this one, and I was tired. More than tired. Sickened. Numb. Furious. Both with myself and with Talon. I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to lock myself in a room and drink an insane amount of alcohol, until the scene on the news faded out of my mind. I’d be equally happy to stalk into an office and ream someone out, possibly with fire and a lot of cuss words. The last thing I wanted was to be called back for another assignment.
But what else could I do?
Methodically, I rose and began packing my things. Talon’s word was law; the opinions of a juvenile Basilisk agent didn’t concern them. They would send me out on another mission, and they would continue to do so, regardless of what I wanted. But I had the ominous, sneaking suspicion that I was reaching the limit of how far I could be pushed, used, lied to. One word hovered at the back of my mind, constant and terrifying, appearing in my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shove it back.
Rogue.
Garret
Six hours till dawn.
I lay on my cot with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling of my cell, watching the cracks blur and run together. Around me, the jail block was dark, quiet. The only light came from beneath the door to the guard station at the end of the hall, and I was the only prisoner in the room. I’d been given my last meal hours ago—rations and water, as the Order didn’t believe in final requests—and it had been delivered by a cold-faced soldier who had spit “dragonlover” at me before tossing it to the floor. Where it still lay, untouched, near the front of the cell.
Six hours till dawn. Six hours before my cell door would open, and a pair of soldiers would step through, announcing that it was time. I’d be handcuffed, escorted across the training field and taken to the long brick wall facing the rising sun. There would be witnesses, of course. The Perfect Soldier was about to be executed for treason; there would probably be a crowd. Perhaps the entire base would turn out. I wondered if Tristan would be there, and Lieutenant Martin. I didn’t know if they would come; truthfully, I wasn’t certain I wanted them to witness my final moments, as a traitor to the Order. There would be a line of soldiers standing in front of that wall, six of them, all with loaded rifles. I would be taken before them, offered a blindfold, which I would refuse, and then I’d be left standing there alone, facing them all. The countdown would begin.
Ready…
Aim…
Fire!
I shivered, unable to stop myself. I wasn’t afraid to die; I’d prepared myself for death many times before. In the field, before a strike on a nest, or facing down a single dragon—we all knew that, at any moment, we could be killed. Soldiers died; it was a fact of life, one you couldn’t predict or avoid. There was no tactical reason the soldier standing just inches away would take a bullet to the temple and I would be spared. I was alive because I was good at what I did, but sometimes I’d just gotten lucky.
But there was a distinction between cheating death and knowing the exact time it would come for you, down to the last second. And there was a difference between dying in battle and standing there with your hands behind your back, waiting for your former brothers in arms—the very soldiers you had fought with, bled with—to kill you.
Five and a half hours till dawn.
I didn’t regret my choice. I’d meant every word I said in the courtroom. And if it came down to it again, and I stood on that beach with the dragon I was sent to kill, knowing that if I let her go I would die instead… I would still choose to save her.
But I had betrayed my Order, and everything I knew, to side with the enemy. I’d seen fellow soldiers die in front of me, torn apart by claws or blasted with dragonfire. I’d watched squad mates throw themselves in front of bullets or charge into the fray alone, just to give the rest of us an advantage. I knew I deserved death. I’d turned my back on the Order that raised me, the brothers who had died for the cause, to save our greatest foes. I knew I should feel remorse, crushing guilt, for family I’d betrayed.
But lying on my cot, mere hours from my own execution, all I could think of was her. Where was she now? What was she doing? Did she think of me at all, or had I been long forgotten in the flight from Crescent Beach with the rest of her kind? Surely there’d be no reason for a soldier of St. George to cross her mind; she was free, she was with her own, and I w
as part of the Order. I was still the enemy of her people. Though it made me sick to think of it now, the number that had died by my hand. Ember should hate me. I deserved nothing less.
But I still hoped she thought of me sometimes. And as the minutes of my life continued to slip away, I found myself thinking more and more of the moments we’d shared. Wondering what would’ve happened…had we both been normal. I knew that wishing was wasted energy, and regret changed nothing, but for perhaps the first time in my life, I wished we’d had more time. If I’d known what would happen, I would have spent every moment I could with her. I would have done a lot of things differently, but it was too late now. Ember was gone, and in a few hours, I was going to die. Nothing would change that, but at least her face would be the last thing on my mind before I left this world.
I hope you’re happy, Ember, wherever you are. I hope…you’ll always be free.
Five hours till dawn.
Ember
“Wake up, Firebrand.” Riley’s voice was soft and deep, and my dragon stirred to life at his touch. “It’s 2:00 a.m. Fifteen minutes till go time.”
I lifted my head from the pillow, fighting the grogginess pulling me down. The room was dark; only one lamp had been left on, and outside the sky was black. I hadn’t thought I could sleep, but I must’ve been more exhausted than I’d felt. After the three of us had gone over the plan, Riley had told me once more to get some rest, and I’d drifted off almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.
The plan. I sat up as my heart began an irregular thud in my chest. It was time. This was it. Tonight we were going after Garret.
“Better get dressed,” Riley said, nodding to my backpack on the bed. He had changed, too. No longer in dusty jeans and a white T-shirt beneath his jacket, he now wore a dark shirt that clung to his chest and arms, black jeans, gloves and a belt with several compartments and pouches on the side. At the desk, Wes was garbed in all black, too, a ski cap perched on his head. But he looked sullen and scared, like he’d rather be doing anything else. Riley, looming over me at the edge of the mattress, looked completely in his element, and my heart gave a weird little flip in my chest.